


make your move (it's your turn)

by thanatopis



Category: Joker Game (Anime)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 04:43:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6785737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thanatopis/pseuds/thanatopis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Manipulation and deceit seem to wrap around Miyoshi like a thick quilted blanket, and yet, Sakuma still cannot shake him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	make your move (it's your turn)

**Author's Note:**

> this show has me obsessed, like it's so goddamn good everything about it man

When Sakuma exited Lieutenant Colonel Yuuki’s office, he was mildly surprised to see Miyoshi waiting for him on the adjacent wall. He was leaned casually on the dingy wall like he perfectly belonged there and Sakuma realized that he should’ve been used to this kind of behavior by now. Even so, living his day-to-day with spies and seeing them (or sometimes not) come and go never failed to set Sakuma on edge.

He was relieved to know that the majority of the young men making up D-Agency had little to no interest in Sakuma himself. It was better that way. He was a soldier, a proud one who spoke and believed in the values of honor, and the conflicting ideologies of soldier and spy left little room for pleasantries and forging strong bonds between his fellow brethren.

Sakuma thought he knew things about the type of men who had enlisted and fought hard to impress and work for Lieutenant Colonel Yuuki, but there was one gentlemen that Sakuma couldn’t pin down accurately enough to read no matter how hard he tried.

And Sakuma had tried—well enough into the night where bouts of restless sleep plagued him. Nightmares of Sakuma during the raid, not being able to find proof of the American spy’s, John Gordon’s treachery, a dull knife plunging into his gut, life’s blood flowing out of him tinny and hot, and all the while Miyoshi looked on with that fox-like smirk, watching with an intensity that was hard to carry.

Miyoshi threw Sakuma for a complete loop.

He was the only member among D-Agency who actively sought out Sakuma and asked for his time. He was also one out of two who had specifically volunteered to be a spy in Yuuki’s program.

Miyoshi was everything that Sakuma abhorred about spies. He was calculative, cunning, unapologetically manipulative, and narcissistic, and yet, Sakuma couldn’t truly make himself dislike Miyoshi. He just couldn’t. His inability to simply hate Miyoshi was astounding as it was frustrating.

Sakuma didn’t know what it was, but having Miyoshi ask for his time and company made him feel good, made him feel like he suddenly belonged somewhat in this strange and hostile world he’d found himself suddenly thrust in.

He walked up to Miyoshi, reigning in his expression for fear that Miyoshi would dissect every twitch and shift, and would learn something about Sakuma that he himself wasn’t even quite sure of. It was frightening.

Miyoshi’s suit matched the tawny color of his hair, feathered with long bangs that made him look opulent and mysterious for how they’d sometimes hang in front of his eyes, shielding them. He turned his head slightly and smiled closed-lipped as Sakuma approached. Something unknown and alluring danced in those eyes, making Sakuma’s pulse quicken.

Sakuma knew what Miyoshi was going to ask.

It almost seemed like a game now: Miyoshi asking him if he wanted to go out on the town with the rest of the guys, Sakuma politely declining, Miyoshi’s knowing sigh, the sound neither displeased or disappointed, just accepting, Miyoshi voicing that maybe next time would be the day Sakuma came along, despite knowing that he never would.

Miyoshi must have liked games. He’d taught Sakuma so many.

“Miyoshi,” Sakuma greeted, coming to stand in front of the shorter man. Miyoshi smelled like amber and something spicy, like cinnamon. The scent smelled like something a woman would wear. It was nice.

“A jazz club just opened up on Main Street last week, _The Blue Goose_ ,” Miyoshi began, as expected. “Would you care to join?”

Sakuma opened his mouth to repeat what he’d told Miyoshi several times before, but before he could even get the words out, Miyoshi smoothly interrupted him.

“It’ll be just you and me this time unfortunately,” Miyoshi said, even though his eyes were smiling. Sakuma’s mouth parted on a surprised breath, eyes widening a bit, because that had been unexpected. “The rest didn’t feel like coming along.” Miyoshi explain thereafter.

Sakuma highly doubted that, but didn’t say anything about his rightfully placed skepticism about the others. He was still caught on the fact that Miyoshi had asked him to go out _alone_ —just the two of them. There was something inherently dangerous about being secluded with Miyoshi for a long period of time Sakuma felt, but not for the reasons that might have threatened his life.

He swallowed, throat incredibly tight and mouth parched.

Miyoshi was staring right back at him, waiting, and Sakuma wondered if the younger man could hear his heartbeat. How very loud the pounding thud sounded to his own ears.

“I…” Sakuma floundered for words. Miyoshi’s brow rose, faintly amused, wondering what the hold-up was even though he perfectly knew well what had caught Sakuma’s tongue. Sakuma opened his mouth again, then closed it, then opened it again like a fish out of water. He gathered his thoughts before clearing his throat, contemplating how this was his life now when at a time that seemed so far away now, all he wanted to be was a soldier for his great country.

“I…okay,” The word came out sounding more like a question than anything else and Miyoshi snickered, fox eyes narrowing with obvious pleasure.

Miyoshi adopted a casual, carefree slouch as he shoved his hands into his suit-pants pockets. He pivoted on his heel towards the direction of the stairs leading down to the dormitory’s entrance, beckoning Sakuma to follow.

“Let’s go before it gets too busy and we can’t find a spot.”

After a moment of hesitation and thoughts pertaining to how he was making a great mistake, Sakuma fell into step next to Miyoshi, their sides brushing with a whisper of fabric.

Sakuma swore he didn’t imagine the unsettling feeling of eyes on him.

He didn’t try to look for the source of that uneasy feeling as he and Miyoshi exited the building, noticing a distinct pep in Miyoshi’s step as they traversed the crowded streets.

* * *

 

The club wasn’t as boisterous as Sakuma had been expecting.

It was dim and smoky from expensive cigars, and the jazz music playing allowed for Sakuma to talk at a fairly normal volume instead of having to raise his voice. They were seated immediately in a booth on the second level, a balcony overlooking the stage and the dance floor, and the waiter immediately took their orders.

Something foreign for Miyoshi and sake for Sakuma.

It was quiet as the waiter disappeared and Sakuma tried not to fidget, knowing that such moves would clue in Miyoshi if he hadn’t already picked up on Sakuma’s nervous energy before.

Miyoshi watched him closely through the haze of smoke and Sakuma, with a stubborn and determined set of his shoulders, watched him right back, suddenly ticked off at whatever Miyoshi was trying to do. There was nothing more aggravating then being simple amusement for another person’s benefit. How often he felt like some sort of spectacle now-a-days.

“You’re nervous,” Miyoshi said plainly, not a question, just a simple fact. Sakuma bit the inside of his cheek, knowing it was true and loathing how well Miyoshi could read him, despite not being able to read the man in front of him himself.

“I just don’t trust you.”

Miyoshi smiled at that, nodding his head like he agreed with this statement.

“That’s probably wise, associating with spies and all.”

Sakuma suddenly wanted to ask Miyoshi why he had so eagerly signed his life away to become a spy with no autonomy, where the best prospect of his life would be unending solitude where no one would ever truly know him in whatever strange land he happened to get assigned for the next 10 or 20 years. It was the loneliest prospect a person could suffer through, Sakuma soberly thought.

The waiter had come with their drinks as the silence between them persisted. Sakuma sipped gingerly on his sake, not trusting himself drunk in Miyoshi’s presences.

“Oh? What was that look for Sakuma-san?” Miyoshi asked, brows rising genuinely curious on his forehead. Sakuma hadn’t meant for him to see the tumbling of his thoughts and silently cursed himself. He put his sake cup down with a heavy thump.

“Why do you always ask me to these things?” Sakuma blurted randomly. He’d always been curious and he could feel his face flushing at how transparent he was being.

Miyoshi smirked, taking a slow drink from his crystal glass full of dark liquid, thinking over his answer. His eyes met Sakuma’s over the rim of the glass.

“I find you interesting,” Miyoshi said, shrugging, leaning back against the cushioned booth. “I feel like there is more to you than you would like the rest of us to believe, and I find the prospect of uncovering all that exciting.”

Sakuma frowned and Miyoshi only grinned more, eyes narrowing in pleasure as he loosened his tie, fingers slender and lithe, movements purposeful, not one wasted. Sakuma found himself watching those fingers with rapt attention, absentmindedly wondering if the gigolos who specialized in pleasing women had taught the men of D-Agency the ways of seducing men. Sakuma wondered if this was what was happening to him right now.

“I want to unwrap you Sakuma-san, expose you for what you are and watch it all unravel.”

Sakuma’s body jolted at the sound of Miyoshi’s low, husky voice, how it sounded like he was talking about something else entirely that should have set a heavy stone of disgust in Sakuma’s belly, but only stoked the embers inside his gut, mortifyingly curious.

He swallowed heavy, unable to tear his gaze from Miyoshi’s smug and arrogant disposition from across the table.

“You’re out of line,” Sakuma sneered, balling his fists onto the table, unable to help the flash of anger that found him. This was all so unfair.

Miyoshi clicked his teeth. “Ah, but this isn’t the military is it? You’re not in charge here, soldier.”

Sakuma deflated then, pouring himself another shot of sake despite his previous misgiving. He didn’t care anymore. Miyoshi was unsettling him completely. The sake would help in a comforting kind of sense, not a logical one.

“I knew this was a mistake,” He muttered loud enough for Miyoshi to hear under his breath. The other man just laughed.

“I beg to differ. I’m having quite the time, Sakuma-san. I’m glad you decided to join me tonight.”


End file.
